


Mom

by chantalis



Series: Trudy Platt x Niece!Reader [1]
Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Other, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27241606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantalis/pseuds/chantalis
Summary: You're Trudy's niece, but it never quite felt that way.
Relationships: Randy ''Mouch'' McHolland/Trudy Platt, Trudy Platt & Niece!Reader
Series: Trudy Platt x Niece!Reader [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989013
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Mom

You had been born going into withdrawal. You couldn’t remember it, thankfully, but your aunt Trudy said it was absolute hell to watch you go through it. She would always get a dark look on her face and clench her fists when she was reminded of what your childhood had been like. She didn’t get custody of you until you were twelve, but it didn’t matter, she’d been taking care of you since you were a baby so to you her officially getting custody meant that your mom couldn’t neglect or use you as a bargaining chip for drug money.

When you were eight years old your class was making gifts for Mother’s Day. You didn’t feel embarrassed or angry or anything anywhere remotely negative, you were happy. Excited. You were using tissue paper, pipe cleaners, glitter, and glue to make a portrait of you and your aunt Trudy. Your giddiness was bubbling up and making you jumpy. You made sure to use lots of blue because it’s her favourite colour. You were just putting on the last finishing touches, sprinkling silver glitter over the paper, when your teacher came over with a confused look on her face. “Y/N, I thought your mom was a waitress, not a detective.”

“She isn’t. My aunt Trudy is a detective and a super cool one too. She works in robbery-homicide and brings my drawings to work with her. The other detectives are super nice and sometimes when they have barbecues I get to-“

“Y/N, these are supposed to be for Mother’s Day. Not Aunt’s Day.”

“But I-“

“Y/N, you have to know why this isn’t okay. Because of your behaviour you can’t go to recess. I really hope you take this time to think about what you’ve done.” Mrs. Smith made a move to grab your art but you grabbed it first. She snapped and grabbed your arms trying to get you to let go, but it was really rough and she started seething. You screamed at the top of your lungs, tears already pouring down your face. You squirmed and kicked, determined to keep your art out of the trash can your teacher seemed to reserve for art she didn’t approve of. Mrs. Smith grabbed your hair and started to bang your side against your desk when a commanding voice stabbed fear into the heart of your bitch teacher and happiness into you. “Just WHAT do you think you are doing to my niece?”

That was just one of many moments when your aunt saved you. Later on in life, she taught you self defence skills and gave you three types of pepper spray and two tasers. Although you never vocalized it, you viewed her as your mom. You called her ‘mom’ in your head every time you thought about her and it hurt sometimes not being able to say it out loud. She taught you everything you know, life skills, math, science, labour skills, everything. She is the entire reason you are who you are. She guided you, supported you, reamed you out when you fucked up, and clapped louder than anyone else when you accomplished wonders. She made you swell up in pride. She is the reason you never felt undervalued or neglected, because without her intervention you would have most definitely stumbled out of a broken home. She was and is your mom, and no one could make you doubt it.

Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears and your breathing was panicked but you couldn’t stop it. You’d been shot and the burning bleeding feeling was occupying all your available thoughts. You were aware that people were speaking to you, but you couldn’t focus on any of it. “Y/N Platt. Y/N Platt.” The only thing you were aware of was that your name was important. That’s how they find your mom. That’s how they contact her. Call her.

Voices were buzzing around you mixing and blurring together with mechanical sounds. You were scared and confused out of your mind. You couldn’t help it. You were in so much flaring burning pain and then suddenly you weren’t. But it wasn’t like you suddenly started feeling better, you just stopped feeling physical sensations. You didn’t even know you were crying until you started tasting the tears in your mouth. “I want my mom. I need my mom. Where’s my mom?” The muffled voices were getting louder, you thought you could hear your name muffled and desperate before everything faded into nothingness.

When you regained consciousness you were welcome with the sight of fiery red hair. Halstead. Wait... Jay or Will? Shit which one is the doctor? So you definitely have a concussion. “My mom. Call my mom. I need my mom.” You wanted her holding your hand and telling you everything was going to be okay and to just hold on. “We weren’t able to get a hold of her, but we were able to contact your aunt Trudy.”

“Y/N, dear, calm down. I’m trying to find your mom but it’s been years since we talked, I don’t know anything about her anymore, no contact info.” She was there. On the chair next to you. Your mom was there. She came. “Mom, you’re here.” You opened your arms, aching for a hug. She was a little shocked, but she quickly stood up and leaned into your arms, gently wrapping hers around you while yours gripped onto her Sergeant’s uniform for dear life. Her shoulder-length grey hair hovered near your face, and you’d never been happier to see Trudy Platt’s signature haircut in your life. “I love you, mom.”

—————————————

You weren’t groggy this time. You woke up slowly and hesitantly. You scanned the room, taking into view the machines you’re hooked up to, Randall’s CFD jacket was hanging on the back of an empty chair, and aunt Trudy asleep. She was sitting in one of the dreadful hospital chairs but her head and shoulders were laying on the bed beside you. She looked stressed. Her brows were furrowed and her lips were pressed into such a fine line that they were turned white. There were clumps of hair strands fallen across her face. Despite the weight you felt your arm under you focussed all of your strength on using the tips of your fingers to move the hair out of her face. She twitched but otherwise didn’t move. 

“Oh thank god.” You looked up and saw Randall making his way to the side of your bed without your mom, sorry, aunt. “How’re you feeling kiddo?”

“Like I was a punching bag for the hulk.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. So, what happened?” Randall hesitated, his eyes drifted over to the sleeping woman who held such a strong position in both of your lives, he looked at you cautiously. “You were shot. Three times. One hit you in the shoulder and got caught in the bone. The second nicked your left lung and exited your body. The third ricocheted off your collar bone and into your liver. They had to take you into surgery to repair your lung and liver and remove the bullets. There was a lot of bleeding in your liver and they almost lost you a couple of times on the table.”

“Oh...”

“That’s not all... Look I don’t know the whole story with you and your mom. But when you came in you were practically screaming for her, and after the surgery you woke up a couple of times and it was pretty clear you were out of it, you started reaching for Trudy and asking for your mom. We’ve all been trying to call her but nobody’s seen hide or hair of her in five years. Trudy is... a little upset that you were calling for your mom. I don’t really-“

“Crap.”

“Y/N I just wanted you to know why Trudy is sad and your mom isn’t here-“

“My mom IS here Randy. I... I’ve never said this out loud but... I have always thought of aunt Trudy as my mom. My... biological mother was irresponsible and negligent at best and sporadic and abusive at worst. Aunt Trudy raised me. She read me stories before bed, taught me to ride a bike, told me to eat my vegetables, she helped me with my homework, taught me to defend myself... She is my mom. I’ve always thought of her as my mom. I call her ‘mom’ in my head. The only reason I’ve never actually called her that is people, including her, told me to call her aunt. I... How sad is she feeling? What do I do? I love her so much.” Tears were drifting down your cheeks and you could see Randall’s eyes misting over as well. He carefully grabbed your hand as nurse Sexton made her way into your room to check on you. “I think you should tell her.” His voice was so confident and kind, you knew he was right. “Yeah. I’m going to tell her.” Excitement bubbled up as you squeezed his hand in return.

———————————-

Randall winked as he left to go get some food from a local restaurant for the three of you. “Do you want some more water Y/N?”

“No thanks, there’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh... Yeah. About your mom, right?” She looked terrified. She was the strongest woman alive and she sat before you almost shaking in her seat. You held out your hand for her to grab. Once her hand was in yours you smiled and entwined your fingers with hers. “When I was asking for my mom. I wasn’t asking for the woman who gave birth to me. I was asking for you. You are my mom. You have raised and cared for me my whole life. I still remember when I tried making you something for Mother’s Day at school and my teacher lost her mind. She wasn’t the first or last teacher I had that thought I shouldn’t be doing that, but that was the time you swooped in. I have always felt protected and safe because of you. Even as I got older, it just changed from knowing that you were always watching and waiting to swoop in knowing that you trusted me to take care of myself and come to you when I need you. And I just... I have always wanted to make you proud of me. You are the person I look up to, the person who’s opinion I value the most. I have called you my mom in my head my whole life, I guess when I got shot my filters were too... But my point is, you are who I was asking for, you are who I wanted and needed here.”

You looked away from your hands, directly into her eyes. “You are my mom.” She burst into tears and dove forward to hug you as gently as possible. You clung to her desperately, terrified that she would reject your feelings, reject you. She let go of you and weaselled out of your grasp. She stroked your face lovingly and kissed the top of your forehead. “I am so proud to be your mom Y/N Platt, I love you so much, now please get some rest. You look exhausted and I’ve had enough scares from you to last I lifetime.” You felt unsure, not wanting to essentially leave her alone after allowing herself to be vulnerable. “I’m going to be here when you wake up. It would take several dozen armies to remove me. Go to sleep sweetheart.” You sighed and started to drift off, more at peace with the world than you have been in years.


End file.
